Harry got his Wand
by McQueriosity
Summary: Working as an Auror Harry is seriously injured. As he adjusts to his new life Ron has problems of his own, and a killer on the loose may be the least of his worries.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I hate disclaimers, this is not a disclaimer**

**Welcome to 'Harry got his Wand', first inspired by the novel, Johnny got his gun by Dalton Trumbo. If you are reading this story, thank you in advance for taking the time to sample my work, whether you enjoyed it or not.**

**This is decidedly AU, and I make no apology.**

Ron Weasley raced down the backstreets of Knockturn Alley pursuing a fleeing suspect. What had been a routine questioning had escalated into a full blown chase through the crooked streets. A warm sensation radiated from his wristwatch and he raised it to his face. This watch was no ordinary watch; George had made a pair of them from Harry's old two way mirror and Ron and Harry used their watches to rely urgent messages when separated on patrol.

'Ron, those anti-apparition wards are working, suspect is heading for Diagon Alley.'

Harry's face was determined, and he was looking not at his watch, but ahead of him. Ron reasoned Harry must have a direct visual on the suspect.

'I'm closing in' confirmed Harry. 'I'm going to engage the suspect, approach from his exposed side.' With that Harry cut the communication. As Ron rounded the corner he heard Harry yell 'Halt!' and saw several bright flashes of light shoot towards him. The suspect was determined to fight it out and Ron was equally determined to help Harry apprehend him before they were forced to cause any lasting damage. As Ron closed in to aid Harry there was a high pitched whistle and a blinding flash. Ron felt the energy pulse through him and had time to note that every hair on his body was standing on edge before the blast wave catapulted him through the magical barrier that separated Diagon Alley from the muggle world.

When Ron awoke he was at a loss as to where he was. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it, as the jarring light was painful and he had to squint to see through it. A pretty young witch in lime green robes fussed over him, and he saw the outline of a plain clothed Auror outside the door. The nurse noticed he was awake and stopped working abruptly.

'Good morning Mr Weasley. It's good to have you back in the land of the living.'

'What happened?' asked Ron, 'I don't, I don't remember.'

'Memory loss is a common side effect of trauma such as yours; I can assure you its temporary. We found you outside Diagon Alley. You'd sustained multiple injuries from your trip through the boundary wall, physical and magical. You had some broken bones, and a mild skull fracture but we fixed that up easy enough. I'd like to keep you in overnight for observation but that's your prerogative, we can release you whenever you're ready.'

Ron noticed that while the nurse had a sunny disposition, she was making efforts not to meet his eyes. 'Has my family been told?' he asked.

'They have' replied the nurse, 'they're on their way.'

'What about Harry, and Hermione Granger? They're family too.' At the mention of Harry's name the nurse flinched, the way people used to flinch when they heard You-Know-Who.

'Mr Potter is in another ward' began the healer, 'from what we understand, the two of you were injured pursuing a fugitive. I'm afraid Mr Potter's injuries are quite severe and it wouldn't be in his best interest if I allowed you to see him now.'

Visiting parents would later tell their children to forget everything they heard from the angry man's room, not one bit of that cursing was directed at them and no they weren't to repeat any of it to their friends when they got home.

The healer led Ron through a corridor and up a set of stairs. Ron paled as he saw the sign labelling the ward he was being taken to, the ward where Harry lay. _Permanent spell damage __was embossed in light green across the door_. The ward was empty save for a cold metal bed surrounded by a curtain on all sides. Hesitantly, Ron approached the bed. He parted the curtain and gasped, then cursed himself for being so thoughtless. Harry lay under a sheet, his face was covered and his limbs were missing. There was no sign of life other than the soft rise and fall of his chest as he was fed air through a tube. From the top of the mask the famous scar showed, confirming the reality, the unbearable truth, that it was definitely Harry Potter.

Ron stepped backwards and turned on the healer. 'Fix him' he said simply.

The healer looked at Ron with pity in her eyes, in every syllable of her words, 'We can't fix him. There is serious curse damage to the majority of his body which we can't undo. We had to amputate all of his limbs, and he's lost his face from the eyes downwards. It's why he's wearing a mask, it's not pretty. He's suffered a massive head trauma, brain damage that impairs all his major functions. I'm sorry, but he'll remain as unthinking, as unfeeling as the dead, until the day he joins them.'

Ron cried for his friend, for his brother, his comrade at arms and turned away. He had intended to make his way home, but he barely made it three steps from the bed before his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor.

_Where am I? I can't see anything, where's the light? I can't move to find the switch, I must be hurt bad. I hope Ron's ok, did we get him I'm not sure I don't-I don't remember. I was running, running running running and then…light._

_Why doesn't someone come and talk to me? Here you are Mr Harry Potter sir here's your medicine everything's going to be fine just drink up and it will all go away there, there there. Hush. Maybe I've a bandage over my eyes, and that's why I can't see. I hope they take my bandage off soon. I want to leave soon. I don't want to stay._

_Why doesn't someone do something?_

**Well there you go, please review and stay tuned for updates. It's only just beginning for Harry.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is dedicated to laughandlove, my first reviewer.**

_Am I awake?_

_Am I dreaming?_

_I must be asleep I've never been this peaceful while I was awake. I love dreaming now Voldemort's not in my head. Mouldy Voldy all on his ownsie who's laughing now? I beat you, I won, I BEAT YOU AND I WON DO YOU HEAR ME... Can anybody hear me?_

_Wait! Someone's coming, I can feel the vibrations. I can feel them HELP OH PLEASE HELP ME, please…pinch me, wake me up just do SOMETHING!_

The Healer fussed over the body of Harry Potter, checking his bandages and breathing tube. It was a funny little thing, barely two inches of hollow plastic jutting out of his throat, keeping him alive. His breathing was as steady as a metronome. In. Out. In. Out. She could set a watch to it. Normally a patient in Mr Potter's condition wouldn't have survived the night, and if her superior hadn't ordered the tracheotomy when he did then he certainly wouldn't have. Muggle medicine, she thought to herself, we're using muggle medicine to save the light of the wizarding world.

She heard the door behind her open and turned to reprimand whoever had just come barging in like they owned the place.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, strode into the hospital room and looked gravely at Harry's bed. He turned to the Healer and asked 'How is he?'

The Healer was almost star struck, but considering who her patient was it was inevitable that the Minister would be paying a visit. 'He's stable' she replied. 'No change from since we brought him in. He sleeps, he wakes up. There appear to be no signs of cognitive thought; movement of the head is frequent most likely the result of nerve damage. We feed him a sleeping draught if it becomes too erratic.'

_HELLO! HELLO! Oh why can't I speak to you? No, the two of you. A man and a woman. Who is he? Is he a Healer too? Is it Ron? RON, RON ARE YOU OK? WHAT'S HAPPENED TO ME? What's the use, they can't hear me. I can't even hear me…_

'I want him moved' said Kingsley. 'Somewhere out of the way, where people won't see him, his needs aren't demanding so it should be possible.'

'This ward is empty Minister' replied the Healer. The permanent damage ward was rarely very full, before Harry there had been the Longbottoms Frank and Alice, but they had passed last summer. Harry had come to see them if she remembered rightly. An impatient noise sounded from the Minister.

'I noticed that thank you; I walked through it to get here.' Kingsley's voice was like ice, and he lowered it to barely above a whisper to say his next words, 'It might not remain empty when the Prophet finds out what happened. Can you imagine what it would do to the Ministry if this got out? It's barely recovered from Voldemort' Kingsley ignored the Healer's flinch and continued, 'We're going to keep this quiet for now.' The minister looked down at Harry and leant against the bed. He had almost forgotten the healer was even there and was talking for his own benefit. 'Harry's been away before; we'll say he's out of the country on official business. Now get him moved!' with that, Kingsley turned away and left the room.

_Why are you leaving? Don't go, stay please. Ron don't leave me._

Harry began struggling furiously in his bed, his head thrashing from side to side. The Healer, remembering her standing orders, applied a sleeping draught.

_Oh no, not the sleeping potion again. I hat- I don't want no no n-_

When he was asleep the Healer took him to an empty supply cupboard, somewhere out of the way like the minister ordered. She sealed the door shut.

_In. Out. In. Out. At least I can feel my breathing. And my heartbeat I suppose, that must be the same. Lub dub. Lub du- but I can't hear it. Is this it? Is this death? I must be dead, my heart isn't beating. Dumbledore! Dumbledore are you here? Is this 'on', what you told me about that night at Hogwarts? No. I must be alive, I'm breathing aren't I, so I can't be dead. That means my heart is beating too I just can't hear it._

_If you can't hear your heartbeat it means you've gone deaf. Oh Merlin, I've gone deaf. That's the end of my career if I ever get out of here. Well maybe, I've never met a deaf wizard before, maybe they can fix it with magic. Fix me with magic. Fix me. Please._

_Come on Harry, you can't hear but you can feel. Feel now. I can't feel anything; maybe it only works when people are here? Or when I'm awake, or asleep. What am I doing now I don't even know? How do I know if I'm alive and dreaming or dead and remembering if I can't tell if I'm awake or asleep._

'_All things happen for a reason Harry'_

_Who said that? I can't see you. I heard you though. I heard you! I can't be deaf after all. Unless you're in my head, unless it's a dream. Who is it?_

'_Don't you recognise my voice Harry?'_

'_Dumbledore!'_

'_Yes that's right. Where are we if you don't mind my asking?'_

'_We're at…nowhere. I can't see anything at all, just…darkness.'_

'_When you are ready, I will come again. Goodbye Harry.'_

'_No Dumbledore, don't leave. Don't leave me again.'_

_Why did he leave? Leave then, I don't need you. I NEVER NEEDED YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME DUMBLEDORE? I DON'T NEED YOU. I don't need anyone. I'm going to be just fine on my own, like I always have done before. Done gun fun won bun son sun see? I'm fine._


	3. Chapter 3

Harry ran and ran and ran. The slapping of his too big shoes was noticeably accompanied by the more uniform, correct shoe sized sound of Dudley's gang playing their favourite game. Harry hunting.

Harry dodged between the other children as they played _normal _games like tag and hide and seek. _Maybe I should get some hiding tips from them _thought Harry as he rounded the grey corner of the ugly, poured-from-a-mould excuse of a school. _As if they would help me, too scared of the gang. _Suddenly Harry tripped, and he twisted in mid-air. He felt a horrible sensation, like he was the last dredge of uncooperative toothpaste being forced from the tube. As quickly as the feeling came, it was gone again. Harry was on the roof of his school.

_How funny it seems that my greatest worry used to be being beat up by my cousin. Ha-ha. Now I'm stuck in some terrible limbo, except that it isn't EVEN LIMBO! Dumbledore said I wasn't ready, which means that I'm not there yet. Unless he was lying, he's good at that. No that's not fair, he never misled me, just kept things on a need to know basis. Right? What does it even matter?_

Hermione was sitting numbly in front of the old Weasley clock. After she graduated and Harry was well into his Auror training, Ron not long behind, Harry, Ron and Hermione had all moved into a flat together in a small village with quite a few old faces from their schooldays settling in the nearby area. As a housewarming gift, Molly Weasley had presented the reworked grandfather clock, with three hands, finely engraved with the name of each of them. Sometimes it helped set her mind at ease when she saw their names pointing comfortably at 'at work', and when the unexpected sound of the clock striking thirteen woke her from an otherwise peaceful sleep, she was quite unsure as to what it was.

Knowing she herself was fine; she didn't look at her own hand, and instead looked at the other two. Both were pointing straight at 'mortal peril'. Then Harry's hand had begun to spin around the clock, gaining speed as it went. A high pitched whine filled the room, and several glasses cracked. Hermione held her hands to her ears to block out the painful noise and fell to her knees. Then Harry's hand spun right off the clock. It lay on the carpet in front of her, the dying embers of the fire showing in the shiny metal.

She tried her watch, it was cold. She stayed like that until Ron came home.

When Ron arrived home, supported by a wooden cane, his face was grave. He limped over to the nearest chair and sat down heavily.

'Ron' Breathed Hermione. 'What happened to you?'

Ron grimaced as he spoke, and he spoke slowly. 'Case went bad. Had a little accident and ended up flying through a wall into Diagon Alley. That's what caused this' he indicated to the cane. 'They didn't detect it straight away. They call it MIMF, Magically Induced Muscle Failure. It's very rare, degenerative. A side effect of the accident. It's permanent Hermione.'

Hermione stood up and ran towards Ron, fully understanding the implications of what he'd just told her. There were some serious injuries magic could simply shake its head in response to, but something like this was different. A truly disabled wizard was a rare sight. He would be reduced to a near squib like state in the eyes of the public, and there was no way he could work in the field again. She made to go to him but Ron held up a hand. Hermione stopped.

'It isn't too bad. The Healers say that the effects won't spread for years. It's working its way upwards. They're going to give me a 'wheelchair' eventually.' Ron paused, and took several deep breaths. 'It's Harry, Hermione. He's broken.'

Hermione's legs went weak, and she grabbed a chair to steady herself. 'What do you mean, broken?'

'I think you need to see for yourself'

_The Healer is coming again. Are they going to take my bandages off now? A-aha-ahaha- that tickles. What is that?_

The Healer ran her wand up and across Harry Potter's torso, using the cleaning charm as she went.

_I'm being cleaned. I can feel the tingle, on my chest, my arms and le- hold on. I can feel it on my side, it's down my side. Why not my arms?_

The Healer moved the wand over the scar tissue where Harry's left arm had once been.

_That-that's my what is that where's my arm I don't I can't feel it why can't I feel it please no oh god no PLEASE NOT MY ARM!_

The Healer cleaned Harry's other side.

_Not my other arm too! What's the use of a wizard with no arms?_

The Healer cleaned the stumps of Harry's legs

_My legs too… they just went ahead and lopped off everything. Without as much as a by your leave. I can feel it, the edge of me. Follow the edge Harry. What's left? No arms, no legs. My chest feels ok. Neck, ja-no. Just wet, all the way around. No face._

_How can I scream when I have no face anymore?_

**Coming up, Hermione visits Harry and Harry begins his struggle to communicate. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome back dedicated reader **

_I can see a dark forest. Well done Potter oh shut up now isn't the time to develop a snarky inner voice. I'll go mad._

_Think Harry, narrow down your options, where do you know forests to be? I'm at Hogwarts I have to be at Hogwarts which means this is the forbidden forest. Wait! It's fading I can't I can't stay I don't want to leave._

Tasking Ron with the responsibility of flooing the necessary people, Hermione made her way through Muggle London to St Mungos. She knew she could get there quicker with magic, but sometimes it was nice to just walk and _think _about things. That was something she had never liked about magic. The _speed _of it, it left absolutely no time for logical thinking. When you could go to point A to point B in an instant, you'd better have your plan formed before you set off because there would certainly be no time for ironing out the fine details en route. Harry had taught her that.

The wind was cold and harsh while the sky was a typical bland grey. Good weather for summer she thought. Then all thoughts stopped, because Hermione had just reached the hospital. Standing in the atrium she looked around. Numerous Healers were walking this way and that, their lime green robes trailing behind them. Such cumbersome things. Hermione never understood the insistence on robes and pointy hats, such was the advantage of being muggle born that she was gifted with the greatest magic of all. The ability to dress _practically_.

Hermione waited impatiently in the line and finally reached the front of the queue.

The wizard behind the desk did a slight double take when he recognised her, then regained his look of steely boredom. It must be such fun to be a receptionist.

'I'm looking for Harry Potter. Which ward is he in?'

'I'm afraid,' the wizard began, 'that the esteemed Harry Potter is not currently a patient in this facility. Perhaps you have been misled?'

Hermione took note of the man's condescending air and counted to ten in her head. She would not be thwarted by this man.

'Actually,' Hermione replied, 'I have it on good authority that he _is _here because his partner, who happens to be my good friend, was brought in with him and has since been discharged.'

Then something dreadful happened. The wizard listened to Hermione and at the mention of Ron said not as under his breath as he'd have liked, 'Oh yes, the cripple'.

Hermione stunned the man.

Or at least, in her mind she did. Hermione had her wand to the wizard's throat faster than the eye could follow. 'You,' Hermione carefully enunciated each syllable, 'will take me to Harry Potter or you will find me someone competent enough to tell me where he is. I will count to three.'

A small squeak snuck from the wizard's mouth, and he raised a trembling hand towards an iron faced Healer who was coming down the hall.

'I'm Healer Jessop. Please come with me.' With that, the Healer turned from Hermione and made her way down the nearest set of stairs. As they walked the Healer talked, and Hermione listened.

'We're under orders not to reveal that Auror Potter is a patient in our care, straight from Minister Shacklebolt. For that reason we couldn't have the other patients knowing, or the Healers for that matter, gossip spreads like Devil's Snare around here if you let it. Once the Minister asked him to be moved I found him in a supply cupboard, I've since had him moved to the basement; no one comes down here without authorisation from me or my superiors.'

Hermione took this information and processed it, before storing it away under the appropriate file in her memory. When this was done she responded. 'Why are you letting me see him, if it's a secret?'

The Healer didn't answer. Hermione knew why she had been told, but she needed to probe the Healer, to find out what was happening from other people's perspective. Together they approached the featureless door that separated Harry Potter from the wizarding world.

_Concentrate just think for a minute. What would Hermione tell you? Join the dots Potter you need to use logic what could possibly be related to the forbidden forest that can help you now? _

_A glow, an orange glow bright bright in the night sky and a voice, who? Fang FANG the dog and the dog means Hagrid and the glow is a fire Hagrid's hut, the fire and then that means Malfoy!_

_Really well that was stupid wasn't it what can Malfoy do? No, not Malfoy but with him who was with Malfoy a man a dark man a dirty greasy slimeba- SNAPE. Think what can Snape do, Snape knows mind magic he knows Occlumency, clear your mind clear your mind clear your mind ok I can protect my mind from others but oh of course! Legilimency! My mind is ok so all I need to do is reach out are you a wizard or not just send out the magic come on Legilimens!_

_Legilimens_

_LEGILIMENS LEGILIMENS Legilimens legil…_

'I don't understand.' Hermione faced the broken body of the boy who lived and stood mouth agape. 'How did he survive this? Why did you _let _him survive this?'

'We have to keep him alive,' implored the Healer, 'we're sworn by magical oath to care for the sick. No matter what condition the sick happen to be in. You are a woman of reason don't you see there is much we can learn from him. He's completely brain-dead but stable. Other than keep him alive there is nothing we can do and I won't sit here and let him die,' the Healer's voice cracked then recovered, 'You might be able to live with letting the chosen one die but not me. Not me! Do you understand?'

Hermione looked at the Healer, and once more at Harry. The Healer was right; she couldn't have let Harry die either, because he _was _the chosen one, not just with Voldemort but forever after too. Hermione did not feel the tear on her face, nor did she feel it slide down her cheek and gather at the end of her soft chin. But when it fell, Harry felt it.

Hermione bent down and kissed the top of Harry's head, where his scar was.

_Hermione!_

_Harry?_

**Coming up, Harry and Hermione talk, and Ron begins to adjust to his new life.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Hermione!_

Harry's shout was lost in the background of a high pitched whining, followed by a loud explosion. Hermione staggered, both shocked by the noise and physically by the actual sensation, the feeling of the forceful blast wave hitting her frame. When her vision cleared Hermione let out a small gasp. She recognised her surroundings immediately. There were biplanes dogfighting over a wasteland of craters and mud. Barbed wire was rolled out with the corpses of the unfortunate wrapped tightly in their final embrace. The air had a filthy tang of metal and smoke and it almost hummed with energy. Somehow, she was on the western front. And the battle was starting.

Ron was sitting at the dining table staring into a lacklustre soup when the owl arrived. At first, he didn't notice it, but it hooted indignantly and pecked him on the ear. He hissed as he felt the beak draw blood, and he felt a warm trickle run down his face. Gingerly, he removed the letter attached to the owl's leg, and the owl flew away. He recognised the scrawl of _Ron _as coming from his sister's hand. Ginny had heard.

Ron hadn't seen Ginny for 6 months, as the Quidditch season had started and Ginny had been away defending her first team place. Not that she needed to worry, since she was the highest scoring chaser in league history. To Ron's eternal shame Ginny had broken the record for the number of goals scored in a Quidditch match in a game against his own beloved Cannons, something she never missed an opportunity to point out. Ron crushed the letter in his fist and sent it flying into the roaring fire that was blazing in the grate.

Suddenly thirsty, Ron struggled to stand. His legs were shaking and weak and he collapsed in his chair. Frustrated, Ron dug around in his robe pockets for his wand and with a grunt of satisfaction, used it to summon his stick. Bracing his weight on the cane, he crossed the room and made his way into the kitchen. He made to get himself a butterbeer, but the trip had exhausted him. He sank into the nearest chair, and summoned the butterbeer instead. The Healer said that his endurance would increase in time if he worked at it, but in the end he knew he would be consigned to a chair. A wave of hopelessness overcame him, and he wept.

'Harry!' Hermione screamed as another shell landed near her. The battle field was becoming clearer, and she saw the thick mud and devastation all around her. The sky was dark and there was driving rain and cold. A network of trenches materialised in front of her, and she dived for cover into them.

Hermione landed with in a pool at least a foot deep, and disturbed 3 large, bloated rats that scurried away dragging their pale tails behind them. The trench was empty. Whilst she could hear masses of gunfire all around her, and saw the flashes in the sky and all around her she felt the rhythmic _thud _of shells and bullets, she saw no soldiers around her. She climbed the firing step, and looked out across no man's land. If there was no one shooting on her side, then there must be someone shooting on the other side.

Hermione's rational mind blinked. She could clearly see multiple soldiers running back and forth through the enemy trench, and even an officer shouting encouragement to his men. The soldiers were all the same person. They were all Harry. Or rather, they were all similar to Harry, but not quite exact. The soldiers were all behaving differently, not in the uniform, clone like manner she expected. To her surprise she could even hear them, hear their exact words.

One Harry wasn't even looking at her or her trench. His eyes were fixed on the ground, and he carried out his orders with fervour. One was fixing his bayonet and preparing to go over the top, his green eyes shining with his lust for blood. The officer was busy directing them, but Hermione clearly saw arrogance in him, a lack of humility that she knew her Harry had. Her observations were cut short. One of the Harry's had raised his arm and pointed straight at her, and Hermione felt his gaze sear her to her very soul. Then he raised his rifle and all went white.

Hermione was back in St. Mungo's. Harry was back in the bed before her, still and unmoving. The Healer stood in the corner, avoiding her gaze. Hermione turned and faced the Healer down.

'How long was I gone?'

The Healer opened their mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then the Healer swallowed and said, 'Fifteen minutes. Once you touched Mr Potter's head-

'Harry's head' cut in Hermione

'Harry's head' continued the Healer, 'you went all still, and your eyes glazed right over. It was as if you'd been stunned. I didn't know what to do, I checked your vital signs and I couldn't detect any sickness.'

'Harry was trying to talk to me. I think he was using Legilimency'

'But he can't. He's brain-dead'

'Obviously your original diagnosis was flawed, because Harry has created an environment in which he can exist and perform magic from, in his mind. Only his body is broken. The man is still there. Inside, reaching out to us.' She bent over and rested her hand on the bed. ' To me.' She said softly.

The Healer looked horrified, as the fact that Harry was conscious and trapped in his own mind dawned. 'Did you manage to talk to him?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No, for some reason his mind rejected me, like it was fighting against me.' She turned to look at Harry. 'But it's a start'.

Hermione turned to the Healer and said 'I'll be back tomorrow. And please, for his sake, charm some windows in here or something. It's the least you can do to let him know when it's the daytime outside.'

**Please review and let me know what you think. **

**Coming up, Hermione hits the books to find out how to talk to Harry whilst Ron has a visitor.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome back reader**

Hermione wrapped her heavy travelling cloak closer around her and struggled against the harsh wind. The sky was dark and flashes of lightening punctured the sky. The driving rain had turned the ground into a slimy mud, and her feet slipped trying to find purchase. In front of her was her destination. The gates of Hogwarts. Hermione reached out a hand to open the metal gate, but froze inches from it. Of all the good memories Hogwarts had given her, it was the last, most terrible one that haunted her and stayed her hand. The thunder rolled and crashed like waves, and for a moment Hermione watched the sky in awe. Everything about Hogwarts was magic, even nature itself. Steeling herself, Hermione pushed open the gate and slipped inside.

In St. Mungo's, three Healers had gathered around the bedside of Harry Potter. The sunlight streamed through the magical window, even if the country was in the grip of the worst storm in decades. One of the Healers had their hand pressed firmly against Harry's forehead, and their eyes were shut tight in concentration. A bead of sweat slid from the Healer's brow down their face. This was their sixth attempt to contact Harry Potter. It was also their sixth failure.

Ron was in the study, straining to hear the wizarding wireless over the storm. The Cannons were on the verge of ending their fourteen match losing streak, despite the weather. As big a fan as he was though Ron didn't fancy being in the stands for this one. Small mercies and all that.

After a thrilling endgame and a snitch capture worthy of Harry himself, Ron made himself a drink and got as comfortable as he could by the fire. Laying the cane on the empty chair beside him he prepared himself for a night spent taking all of the good feelings from the Cannons win and twisting them into a sad mockery of his predicament. This took careful planning and Ron didn't get very far before he was disturbed by a knock at the door. So rarely did anybody actually knock on the door rather than Apparate or floo in that Ron did not immediately recognise the sound. The knocking stopped, and the faint pop of a witch apparating was heard, along with the strange smell of wood smoke that Ron had never before noticed during an appearance.

It was Luna Lovegood.

'Hello Ronald' she said.

_What the hell happened? I lost her, she was here I felt it and then it was gone. My one chance and I blew it, fumbled the snitch missed the quaffle. I saw something, before she left. A dark sky, mud and rain. Noise, gunfire. A fight, a war. Is she alright? Oh please let her be safe, is she hurt is she alive have I killed her oh please I don't want I don't want it I NO! GET OUT I DON'T NEED YOU GET OUT OF MY HEAD…_

The two observing Healers physically felt the magic swirl around them and the air became heavy with static. The third Healer, attempting once again to establish a Legilimency connection to Harry, fell back as if electrocuted, jittering and twitching in a fit on the floor. Harry's torso heaved and a wave of magical energy cascaded through the room. The two standing Healers were thrown violently into the walls, where they slid to the floor and lay still.

Luna shook herself out of her wet clothes and walked over to the chair beside Ron. Picking up his cane she twirled it like a baton as she walked around the room, humming softly. Ron's eyes followed her as she waltzed into the kitchen. There was a soft clinking of glasses which Luna quickly incorporated into her humming. She danced back into the room holding a bottle and two glasses.

'Now before you say anything I know you were just about to offer me a drink. However, seeing as your cupboards are stocked with,' she sniffed Ron's glass, 'Snapdragon's finest Scotch, something I have no stomach for, I brought my own.' She fell into the seat beside Ron and raised her glass with a 'Sláinte'.

Ron returned the toast then downed his drink. His plans had included drinking, if his health was to be involved then it was the lack of it that would be addressed. He poured himself another drink in silence and looked away from Luna. That silence grew until it almost filled the third chair in the room before it was broken by the scratch of pages being turned. Luna had brought a Quibbler with her.

'What on earth are you doing Luna?' said Ron, turning to face her as he did so.

'Well you were being awfully rude Ronald, so I decided to indulge a little myself'

Ron sighed and scolded himself. 'I'm sorry Luna' he said. 'I just haven't been in the best of moods recently, what with all' he gestured to his cane and the empty chair across the room.

Luna marked her place in the Quibbler with a red ribbon and put it down on the chair. 'I know. That's why I came, to cheer you up. I care for you Ronald. More deeply than I think you've ever realised, and that's ok. I'm here as your friend, because I think you're in trouble. Also, the wizard who did this to you is still out there, and of the two wizards who could catch him, you're the only one still able to do so. I,' Luna pulled a brown notebook out of her bag, 'brought this. Tell me about the case.'

Hermione was heading to the library when she had a realisation. Dumbledore's portrait was here, and no one had told him. She changed course and headed to the Headmaster's office. As it was out of term the gargoyle was not blocking the entrance, but merely standing to attention aside the door. She took a breath and climbed the stairs until she found herself in the most prestigious office outside that of the Minister's.

'Ah Hermione' beamed Dumbledore's portrait. Hermione chided herself for her naivety. Of course Dumbledore knew. And of course he was expecting her.

'I was wondering when you would come. I was deeply saddened to hear the news. I presume that's why you're here.'

Hermione began to nod, but stopped herself. 'Partially, Professor I came here looking for answers. I managed to enact a Legilimens connection with Harry in St. Mungo's, but I was cast out of his mind shortly after I made the connection.'

'I think' began Dumbledore, 'You had better explain to me all the details.'

Hermione told Dumbledore all that had transpired in Harry's mind as she made the connection and was not at all unsurprised to see his painted eyes give his trademark twinkle.

'I will make an educated guess as to what has happened, but forgive me when I say; I think I know a solution. You entered Harry's mind through Legilimency correct?'

'Well, Harry sort of initiated the connection; it took me completely by surprise.'

Dumbledore's portrait gave a small chuckle. 'That explains some things. Tell me Hermione, are you well practised in Legilimency?'

Hermione shook her head. It was the one subject she had never mastered, aside from Divination, but that hardly counted in her opinion.

'Harry however, _is _well practised in Legilimency. And also Occlumency. He told me many times that he thought his greatest failure to be his inability to control these skills well enough to prevent the tragedy in the Department of Mysteries. Harry certainly has improved in his skills if he was able to initiate a connection, but given his experiences with Voldemort and your own admitted lack of ability in Legilimency I believe, that Harry is unconsciously employing his Occlumency against you, as a defence mechanism.'

Hermione could have kicked herself for not coming to the same conclusion herself. Her shock had overtaken her and she had missed the simplest of solutions. She almost raised her hand to ask Dumbledore a question, before remembering she was a qualified adult now. He had a way of making her making her feel so at ease, and Hermione was always at ease in a classroom.

'Professor, I need to find a way to talk to Harry.'

'Then you must first master Occlumency and Legilimency. Otherwise I fear the danger is too great. Who knows what could happen if you were unprepared. You were lucky your first connection was so short in duration.'

'But Professor, you need to be taught these skills. If I could learn from a book then I would have by now.'

Dumbledore smiled and turned to his left, where the portrait of Professor Snape was affixed to the wall. 'I believe my former potions master had a protégé of sorts who has the skills necessary for your teaching.'

'You of course couldn't forget one Master Malfoy'


	7. Chapter 7

_Tap tap tap. _Despite the raging of the storm the hallways of Malfoy Manor were quiet aside from the footsteps of Draco Malfoy. He lived alone now, parents lost long ago. One did not betray the dark lord on the eve of his complete and utter victory without consequence. As the last Malfoy it was his duty to rebuild the family name and fortune. Mr Malfoy as he was now known had moved into businesses of his own making and was rich once more. This was an achievement in itself; all the old money purebloods who survived the war had lost their status long ago, existing on reputation alone. Not him. The light was rapidly fading and the shadows cast by the patterned windows danced in the halls as they were distorted by sheets of rain. Draco snapped his fingers as he approached the door to his sitting room and it swung open. _One does not need a house elf for everything _he thought.

It is impolite to Apparate directly into a private home, and in any case Malfoy Manor had protective enchantments that prevented such things. This meant that unfortunately Hermione was forced to battle through the rain and wind to reach the front door. She'd had little time to properly prepare as Snape had immediately contacted Malfoy (Hermione put aside the question of why Malfoy had a portrait of the late professor in his home for later) and Dumbledore insisted that she make no delay. This didn't trouble her too much, but a meeting with someone like Malfoy was practically a duel in itself. Every item of clothing, each mannerism and spoken inflection was a weapon. Malfoy was well practiced in the art of social warfare. Hermione would have been his match had she not been in such a hurry. So she hoped.

Ron sat in the most uncomfortable chair they had in their flat. His wand was on the table across the room. His cane was under a simple anti-friction jinx. He needed his wand to dispel it. To get his wand he had to walk unaided. Luna sat silently on a more comfortable chair. In Hermione's absence Luna had taken command of Ron's physical therapy. A Healer had come for a home visit to check him over and prescribed exercises that in theory would halt the spread of his condition. Half the battle was making Ron do them; the other half was making him believe they would work. Ron looked at Luna who smiled at him. Gritting his teeth and gripping the arms of the chair tightly he began to push himself up. Auror training was tough and Ron's upper body was still strong enough to support his weight. For now at least. A bead of sweat rolled down his face. He locked his legs as best he could. It was all a matter of balance. In theory he should be able to stand. After a brief hesitation he let go of the chair.

Luna gently helped Ron back into his chair and fetched his cane. They had a long way to go.

_No one came to see me today. Where's Hermione? I just want to talk to someone._

_I'm alone. I've always been alone and it was just going good I had a house and friends and safety and and then this fucking argh what did I do? I didn't do anything and now this happens I was just trying to help people and this is what I get? Got my wish now no one dies for me I die enough for myself._

Hermione sat stiffly in the luxurious armchair provided to her for her meeting with Malfoy. There was a roaring fire in the room which threw out an orange glow. Malfoy's complexion did not benefit from this, if anything he looked more unnerving. He had dressed for the occasion, immaculately tailored robes that could easily have cost more than she made in a year. In her muggle clothes Hermione felt decidedly uncomfortable, even if she found robes to be a hassle. Malfoy held his chin as if in thought and leant back deep into the warm embrace of the chair. Her skin crawled as she felt his gaze upon her. Mastering herself she looked upon him equally coolly. The corner of his lip curled upwards. He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. With a lazy flick of his wrist the bottle of wine on the table between them rose into the air and filled the two glasses. Malfoy floated his own glass to his hand and looked again at Hermione.

She grit her teeth. She knew what he was doing. To use magic in the home of pureblood without permission was an ordinarily overlooked and obsolete law. She had no doubt Malfoy knew all about it and the consequences she would face should he choose to invoke it. Declining to drink was just as bad if not worse. There was no way around it. Ignoring the sneer of Malfoy she reached towards the table for the glass. _Remember Harry _She told herself. _Play his game. Remember why you're doing this._ She looked at her glass. The wine was almost black in colour, Hermione expected as much from Malfoy. This was wizard's wine. Sitting back in her chair she looked him dead in the eye and drank. Satisfied Malfoy placed his glass on the table and leant forward. The drawl hadn't lost its potency over the years.

'Professor Snape has informed me of all the details. It goes without saying that this is as a favour to him. My distaste for Potter remains as it was. No doubt you've done research into Legilimency.' Hermione nodded. 'It is irrelevant. Even under the simplest of circumstances the training you require is extensive. The circumstances are extenuating.' He made a motion with his hand and Hermione leant forwards. Her face was inches from his. His aftershave was subtle. She shivered as he reached up and laid his hands on her face. His skin was cold. He brushed her hair aside and placed two fingers on each of her temples. He pulled their heads together and she felt his hair on her face as their foreheads touched. 'Consider this a crash course' He whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

'Attention!'

Hermione jumped. Instead of the cold, atmospherically speaking, drawing room of Malfoy Manor she was standing bolt upright in a drill square being buffeted by the very real harsh north wind. Instead of her soaked through muggle clothes she was wearing an ill-fitting, horribly scratchy woollen military uniform. In place of a wand strapped to her waist there was a shining Webley Mk IV Service Revolver. It wasn't particularly heavy, but compared to a wand the weight was unfamiliar and it took Hermione a while to get used to the feel of it. Malfoy stood in front of her, and in stark contrast. His uniform was tailored, his boots gleaming and he sported a sword at his waist. What hadn't changed was the perpetual sneer that forever threatened to break out from its confines and spread across his face. It even made its way into his speech.

'You are improperly dressed, I expect you to maintain proper discipline regarding your uniform in future'

'How will my uniform help me reach out to Harry?'

Malfoy rapidly closed the distance between them. 'Why I ask you to do things is not up for discussion. If you will not obey my instruction in this delicate matter, which I assured Professor Snape you would not when he bade me take on this odious task, then you will fail to maintain any contact with Potter. For your information your ability to control your mindscape down to its smallest details provides the key to successfully navigating no man's land and securing contact with Potter. Is that understood?'

Hermione grit her teeth. 'It is' she said

'Good. Now, as it was explained to me the first time you made contact with Potter this contact took on the form of a battlefield correct?'

'Yes'

'And in this battlefield you were fighting Potter?'

'Yes, multiple versions of him. I think they could have been different aspects of his psyche'

Malfoy hit her with the flat of his sword. 'You are not here to think. You are here to listen, learn and obey. Is that understood?' He hit her once more.

'Yes' said Hermione. _This is for Harry. He's suffered worse for you_

'And in this battle' Malfoy began to pace around her, 'you were fighting alone?'

'I was'

Malfoy stopped pacing and turned to look at her. 'Then that is where we shall begin.'

In London Ron and Luna were making their way to the Ministry of Magic. Walking with the cane was not strange to Ron anymore, but the looks were. Or rather, the non-looks. With muggles it made little difference, Ron was well practiced at passing unnoticed by them. Part of what made Harry and he such an effective Auror team was their ability to operate in the muggle world with relative ease. Time was marching on and there were more and more criminals who saw the muggle world as a safe haven and Ron could see why. Minister Shacklebolt had ordered that extra care be taken with regard to the secrecy of the magical world and blowing up half a street every time you wanted to bring someone in was getting harder to hide from the muggles. However, since wizards on the run were always on the lookout for other wizards, a muggle disguise proved most effective when apprehending them. Ron took this lesson to heart and was dressed in a sensible dark jacket.

Luna on the other hand was not. While everyone's eyes pretended not to notice the cane and moved swiftly onwards they couldn't quite hide their stares at Luna's outlandish outfit. Butterbeer corks were involved.

'Could you not have put on something more appropriate Luna?' Ron asked as they rounded the corner to the toilets that hid the entrance way to the ministry.

'I'm simply preserving the balance Ronald. You look like you're going to a funeral' She replied. Luna held the door open for him and helped him into the toilet. Before he lost his balance she quickly flushed him in.

By the time she made it down herself there was quite a scene. The normal hustle and bustle of busy ministry workers had ceased. Those who were still moving did it slowly but most had abandoned the pretence and were standing still and staring openly. The tap of the cane on the marble floor was deafeningly loud as they made their way to the Auror office. Inside the office Ron saw something that swatted aside his default level of anger that had been pretty much simmering away since his encounter with the dark wizard and replaced it with a boiling fury. Instead of his and Harry's desks being as they had left them, Harry's fastidiously clean desk was occupied by a blond wizard whose robes identified him as Jenkins. Next to it a very short witch was moving the carefully ordered disorder that was Ron's desk into a box. Ron took a step forward but before he could get a word out a door on the far side of the office opened and a voice bellowed 'Auror Weasley, inside. Now.' Ron motioned for Luna to remain at what used to be his desk and crossed the office.

The head of the Auror office was blessed at birth with the unfortunate surname of Valerie and was without a doubt the toughest, meanest man to ever wear the robes. Most wizards would see a promotion to department head as a well-deserved reward for years of diligent service, but Valerie would have chosen ten years in Azkaban if he'd been given a choice. As it was, he was the most senior surviving Auror left in the department after the war and Kingsley's ascension to the top job. He was also well known for his opposition to the minister's decision to overlook the lack of appropriate qualifications in the case of those who survived the battle of Hogwarts. Since Ron was one of these people their professional relationship was strained at best. As Ron entered the office Valerie closed the door with a wave of his hand before motioning to a chair in front of his desk.

'Have a seat Weasley'

Ron didn't move. 'I can stand sir' he replied.

'It wasn't a request. Sit down.'

Ron sat. Valerie kept a Spartan office. There were no photos on his desk or case clippings on the walls. The calendar behind him was blank save for the 14th of April, which was circled in red. Valerie reached into his desk a pulled out a cigarette which he lit with a snap of his fingers. He did not offer one to Ron. After a moment he exhaled and leant forward. What he said next took Ron by surprise.

'I'm sorry you had to see that Weasley. If it means anything, it wasn't my call.'

Ron sat in silence. Valerie paused momentarily and then continued.

'You're to get an honourable discharge and your full pension. Subject to your silence the minister has also arranged for an additional stipend to supplement your income.'

This shook Ron out of his thoughts. 'What do you mean my silence?'

Valerie had the good grace to look uncomfortable, but he didn't beat around the bush either. 'You're not to divulge any information regarding the nature of your condition. A mediwizard will be assigned to you for your personal care and they will be subject to the same restrictions as you are. Any mention of Potter to anyone and the deal is off. All you have to do,' Valerie expelled a contract from the tip of his wand, 'is sign here.'

Ron made no move to take the quill that was on the desk. He felt a familiar burning sensation in his ears. Looking Valerie in the eye he said, 'and who'll be taking over the case? This is no run of the mill power hungry bad guy here. He took me and Harry out of the game and Harry was the best whether you're willing to admit it or not. Now he's roaming the streets and you're taking the one man who knows exactly what we're dealing with off the case and what, throwing him on the scrapheap?' Ron took out his wand and waved it at the parchment which curled up as it burnt. 'You can tell Shacklebolt that's what I think of his deal. I'm taking this wizard down with or without his sanction.'

Valerie's face remained as impassive as ever in the wake of Ron's outburst. He calmly extinguished his desk before turning his attention back to Ron. 'Weasley' he began 'you are no longer part of my department. Accept it and you can get on with what life you have left. If you work against the Aurors you won't be getting any special treatment. The law is the law.'

Ron pushed himself stiffly to his feet. Leaning on his cane as little as he could he limped out of the office.


End file.
